I stop and face him. He slows the car to a halt.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not getting back in your car.”
“What are you gonna do? Walk home? Let me take you home. I won’t talk.”
“There’s no need. My sister’s coming so you can fuck off.”
“Fine. I’ll wait until she gets here.”
“You can wait, but I’m not getting in the car.”
Sam pulls up, and I get in the passenger seat, glaring at Cal. As he spins his car around, I exhale and focus on my breathing, trying not to cry in front of my sister.
The radio plays late night love songs. That’s all I friggin’ need. I press the button for the next station. Rock radio. No, thank you. The next station tunes in to agony aunt Annie. I huff, thinking I should probably call her.
A poor bloke talks about his impotence and how his wife left him, and I’m comforted that someone has bigger problems than me, or not so big as it would seem. I should send him some of my spam emails. I must get three a day trying to flog me Viagra pills.
Next up is a woman struggling financially after her husband’s passing. There’s nothing like listening to other people’s problems to put things into perspective.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on and who was in the car?” Sam parks outside my house, and I tell her everything.
When I walk into the living room, I kick off my pumps and drop like a lead weight into the sofa. I hug a cushion as my body curls into the foetal position, picturing Callum as he told me he didn’t want me. I should be used to hearing those words by now.
The hurt in his eyes when he crumpled in front of Caleb’s travel cot. I wouldn’t hurt my worst enemy like that, let alone a man I love, even though I try so hard to hate him. He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t help thinking if only I’d have done more. Everything plays out in my head, thinking of what I could have done.
There was a moment when I saw him at the wedding, I thought, finally we can be together. How wrong was I. He’ll never want me now. Reaching to the coffee table, I top my glass up with the remaining red wine… I need another bottle.
* * *
My head throbsto the beat of knocking on the living room window. I sit up, wiping the drool from my mouth and open the curtain to a bright sun and Cal in his black attire, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he scowls at me through the glass.
I glance at the clock on the fireplace as I turn. How have I slept in so late? My leg bangs into the coffee table, causing the empty bottles of wine and gin to clink, and I realise the nightmare I had last night is my life.
I unlock the door and open it, bracing myself for another fight, although my head is delicate, and I don’t have the energy.
His eyes move from my head to my toes, but not in his usual lustful way. “You look like shit. Do you realise it’s the middle of the day?” He barges in before I offer an invitation.
“Nice to see you too,” I say, closing the door.
He walks into my kitchen, eyeing the dirty dishes on the side. “Have you been drinking all night?”
“So, what do you care?” I fold my arms across my chest, then wince at the pressure on my full breasts like two water balloons ready to burst at any moment.
“Where’s Caleb?”
I yawn and cover my mouth with my hand. “Justin hasn't brought them home yet.”
He huffs. “Good job. Look at the state of you. You’re hungover.”
I look down at the two ring stains around my nipples and pull the cardigan around my body, holding it in place.
He walks into the living room, inspecting the empty bottles. “You need to get yourself sorted out, Steph. This isn't like you.”
“Piss off. You don't know me or what I'm like. You never stuck around long enough to pick up the pieces after ruining me the first time.”
“If this is you, I think Caleb should come and stay with me. Permanently. You started drinking a lot when we were at uni. I’ve grown up in a house with a drunk parent. I don’t want that for my kid.”
“You don’t have the right to take him away from me.” Crescents imprint into my palms as I clench my fists.